it's a great life, if you don't weaken (matociquala) wrote,
it's a great life, if you don't weaken

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it was anything but hear the voice that says that we are all basically alone

Boy, what a beautiful morning. High thirties into low forties, clear and crisp, everything in bloom. Just gorgeous.

Two and a half miles this morning, and I did my first mile in 14:59. If you think I am smug about it, you would be right. Then the nine-minute loop of the park (I think it's actually longer than a half-mile, but gmaps pedometer says it's not), and then some stretching, and then mostly-walked the mile home in 16:47. I justify this to myself by means of the scorching (for me) time on the run out, the fact that I was going to stay home this morning, the fact that my shins and calves hurt, and sheer laziness. Also, it really is a pretty morning.

Climbing last night was better than Monday, despite ongoing lack of strength and soreness issues in my right arm. That traverse that I couldn't do and then I could do? I can't do it again, so I still have not finished that damned blue 5.7. Even though it's a short wall, it's tricky. I did however finish a fairly long 5.7 with a similar traverse that used to completely kick my ass (and I felt secure the whole time, though I had to stop and rest), and also a 5.7 and a 5.6 on the slab, both of which I have done before. I tried a 5.8 and couldn't get off the ground, so I fell back and did the 5.6 on the same wall, which is sort of a bunny wall overhang. It's overhung, but you can barely tell. Still, it will help make me strong enough that I can tackle the overhang on the black 5.7 that is my other project wall. The Jeff is after me to try a 5.7 on the tree wall that he likes. It looks like absolutely no fun at all, but I will probably adopt that one as a new project once I finish one of these other two. It has to happen sooner or later, right?

I have a hell of a bruise on the palm of my left hand. Wheeugh. No idea how I got it, either.

189.9 miles to Lothlorien.

In other news, I appear to be cured. Right. Not taking those pills any more. Man. It's been donwright pleasant and spacious inside my head for the last two days.

And now I need a shower and some food and tea and some work on "The Red in the Sky is Our Blood," which is standing at around 1000 words currently. Because hey, progress is good.
Tags: falling off perfectly good rocks, get out in the park, progress notes

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